


Who Would Have Thought? by Terence

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon wonders if his imagination is running away with him when he drops by the loft for breakfast and gets a real eye-full. First in the Breakfast Triptych series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Would Have Thought? by Terence

Rated PG-13 for suggested m/m relationship and language (you can still hear it on network TV). If you are offended by either, what are you doing on this list? 

Disclaimer: I do not intend to infringe upon the copyright as held by Pet Fly and UPN. I?m not making any money, and I don?t own these characters (What I would do with them if I did...). 

This is the first of three stories in what I'm calling the Breakfast Triptych. The other one is finished and I'll be posting it in a day or two. The third one is plotted and I've started writing. Hopefully I'll finish in a day or two. I'm posting this as a spur to finish the other. Its my thank-you to all the fiction writers out there who have been sending me my fix regularly. 

##  Who Would've Thought?  
Breakfast Triptych I

by Terence  


Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg--now there's a real Odd Couple for you. Who would've thought they'd be so good for each other? 

Just this morning I dropped by Jim's loft to update him on the Aspen case. I'd been up all night monitoring the stakeout on our suspect's girlfriend so I caught the two of them at breakfast. They invited me to join them, and I did. 

As I sat there at the table, I just couldn't believe what I saw. Ellison was sitting there at the table in his black silk boxers. Sandburg, in his plaid boxers and grey tank-top, was busy spooning scrambled eggs onto Jim's plate and buttering the man's toast for him. And my detective didn't even blink. 

I thought to myself, /Simon, you've got an over-active imagination. You're seeing things that aren't really there. There's probably a perfectly logical explanation for this./ But I'll be damned if I could think of one. 

So I sat there watching the interaction between the two of them, and noticed things that I've probably seen before, but hadn't really *seen*, if you know what I mean? It was small stuff, like Jim starting to look for something and Blair handing it to him. Not that Jim *said* he was looking for something. Yet--without a word being spoken--the kid somehow knew what it was, found it, and handed it over. And he did it all without missing a beat of the long, convoluted story he was telling me about some primitive ritual practiced by this South American tribe during the dark of the moon. 

Blair asked me if there was something wrong with the food, so I started eating again. But while I'm finishing my breakfast I'm thinking to myself that this whole scene was so damned domestic that I almost expected Martha Stewart to pop in with some decorating tips. And speaking of decorating, /When did Jim put in that wood and glass door to Sandburg's room?/ 

That made me start looking around the loft. I discovered a lot of new things. There was a small piece of primitive art; a brightly colored afghan on the back of the couch; a butter-yellow easy-chair. Then Sandburg started clearing the table and putting the dirty dishes into a pint-sized dishwasher. /Dishwasher?/ I thought. About then Jim called down from his bed-room to tell Blair that he'd laid out clean clothes on the bed for him. My brain almost went into meltdown. /Since when has Sandburg's wardrobe moved into Jim's bedroom?/ I asked myself. 

As Jim came down stairs, he paused on his way to the bathroom to tell Sandburg that he's got today's clothes all color-coordinated so the two of them won't clash. '...so don't change anything,' Ellison added. 

/When did Jim start worrying about whether his shirt clashed with the kid's? I mean, we're talking about the guy who used to think that *clean* blue-jeans were a real fashion statement./ 

That's the moment that I decided that it was all a weird dream. I'd fallen asleep at my desk and I'd soon be waking up with a crick in my neck. Either that, or I was going to find a couple of vegetable pods up in Jim's bedroom--one Ellison-sized and the other just big enough for Sandburg. 

Besides, it was time for me to get my weary ass on home. /There'll be time enough to think about all this when the two of them come right out and tell me about their relationship,/ I thought to myself. /Though I have to admit--they make a cute couple. And they're good for each other. Jim has given Blair the security to slow down and mature; and Sandburg's helped Ellison connect with people and become a better cop./ 

Anyway, I said my goodbye's and left for home. So why, you may ask, am I lying here in bed speculating on the love-life of my best cop and his room-mate? Damned if I know. But who would've thought...?  
  


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